


There's a First Time for Everything

by LSPrincess



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Bisexuality, Demisexuality, Drunk Sex, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Living Together, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Morning After, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), Party, Post-Season/Series 02, Protectiveness, Rating: M, Ratings: R, Resolved Sexual Tension, Scars, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSPrincess/pseuds/LSPrincess
Summary: When Todd and Farah agree to take Dirk to his first public party after much persistence on his part, he gets a little too drunk, and Todd has to deal with the repercussions.





	1. What Do I Do?

**Author's Note:**

> Yiikkess, so this is my first fanfiction posted here, though not the first one I've ever written. However my smut skills may be a little shabby, so pffft

The lights from the stage were nearly blinding, scoring Todd’s eyes with monstrous claw marks and pounding against his head like an infuriated fist on a door, like Dorian had done so many times, demanding rent, demanding money so he could get stoned out of his fucking mind and then come back and demand more because he’d forgotten that Todd had already paid him, let alone the fact that he’d blown it all on drugs.

Todd pushed through the crowd to get back to the long folding table where the drinks were set up. As he finally cleared the sweaty swarm of gyrating bodies, he caught a glimpse of Dirk, who was dancing wildly with Amanda and laughing like a lunatic, his face gleaming with sweat and his jacket and shirt already stained in multiple places by God knows what. Although the image was slightly concerning, it made Todd smile nonetheless. It’d been a while since he’d seen Dirk be so happy, and though it was most likely due to the amount of alcohol he’d consumed, Dirk smiling and laughing was Dirk smiling and laughing, and the cause didn't really matter too much when he was having such a great time.

Dirk had charged Todd at one point in the past few days, a great big smile splitting his face like a knife would split a melon, and dropped to his knees beside him.

“Todd!” he’d exclaimed, erratically patting his friend’s knees and repeating his name until Todd had actually grown sick of hearing it.

“What?”

“Todd, we simply _must_ go to a party — a _proper_ party. They’re having one in a warehouse downtown. Have you heard about it? Music and dancing and drinking — it’s so exciting! Everyone looks so happy and nice and laugh-y and good time-y, it’s all so…overwhelming-y!”

Todd had nearly choked on his drink. “A party?” he’d asked incredulously. He might have said it a little too loud, in all honesty, because Farah had popped her head in from another room.

“What about a party?” she’d inquired.

Dirk had spun around to look at her without a moment’s hesitation. “I think we should go to the party being held downtown,” he said, his voice wavering slightly in his excitement. The stress he put on his words reminded Todd of a giddy child.

Farah’s full body then appeared in the door frame and she leaned against the wall. “Dirk, have you ever _been_ to a party?”

Dirk snorted and brought his shoulders up to his ears in a drawn-out shrug. “Not _exactly_ , but what of it? It wasn't exactly a common occurrence at Blackwing. They hardly let us leave our rooms, Farah, let alone _dance_ — although my experience, or lack thereof, could change _drastically_ _if_ we were to go,” he said sweetly, his eyes wide as he looked between Todd and Farah with that expression of his, the one that said _I’m-making-a-very-reasonable-point._ Todd disagreed with this expression.

However Dirk had, in fact, managed to convince them to take him, and Todd was still marveling in wonder over that development. He couldn't quite remember where the argument had turned, where Farah had given in to Dirk’s pleas and cries and where Todd had fallen silent with acceptance. If Dirk had his mind set on something, there was no way to stop it, and it would be better for them to accompany him than for him to go alone to his first party out of pure obstinacy and his annoying-yet-sometimes-endearing persistence.

After they’d agreed, Todd had called Amanda to ask if she wanted to go. She’d cackled at the idea of Dirk at a public party and said that she wouldn't miss it for the world — her eagerness was shocking.

Todd hadn't been to a party like this in seven years (not counting the Sound of Nothing festival they’d had to attend during the Cardenas case), and the lights and loud music that shook his ribcage in time with the hips of some of the women around him were proving too much for him to bare, especially with the pararibulitis.

He poured himself another drink and hastily let it slide down his throat, soothing the harsh dryness there from screaming and whooping along with the crowd.

“Todd!” Dirk’s voice came, woozy and high-pitched thanks to the alcohol. “ToddToddToddToddToddTodd!” he chanted, stumbling his way over. Todd watched him trip over dust three times. He collapsed forward and Todd had to promptly set his drink down to catch him before he fell face-first onto the ground.

“Christ, Dirk, how much have you drunk?" Todd asked, lowering the now hysterical Dirk onto the floor so he was sitting with the back of his head against the edge of the table.

“‘M not drunk, how did—h-how could you think such a thing?” he barked back, lifting his red solo cup to his rosy lips again. His skin was flushed, the heat trailing down his neck like paint, and he was blinking languidly, like he had been when he’d been impaled by the crossbow bolt. A flicker of fear skittered through Todd’s veins: had Dirk been drugged? Poisoned? Given, there were some shady people around eyeing them with unidentifiable intrigue, but why Dirk? Why drug Dirk? To rob him? To kidnap him? To _rape_ him?

A sickening pit formed in Todd’s stomach and he patted Dirk’s cheek, to which he replied by grunting and batting Todd’s hand away.

“What’re you doin'  _that_ for?” he groaned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“What’s wrong? I-I mean, are you…all right…Dirk?” he asked slowly, trying not to come off as suspiciously concerned. The last thing he wanted was to frighten Dirk.

“Nuffing's wrong, wha's wrong wif _you?_ Y’don’t seem to be having too good ‘f a time,” Dirk said, slaving to sit up straight. Todd had learned a while ago that when Dirk got drunk, his voice became higher, and his accent became a _lot_ thicker. It was cute in a way, and an easy way to tell if Dirk had been engaging in inadvisable activities — not like they _needed_ that extra hint, though. If Dirk was drunk, a headless person would know it.

“I-I…” Todd glanced up at the shady people he’d noted before, and was relieved and yet slightly unsettled to see that they’d all gone back to minding their own business. Just another lightweight who drank more than they should have, yadda-yadda, let’s see if this half-naked girl is single. Though Todd was somewhat irritated by the speculation that these people found Dirk to be just about as interesting as the dozen people vomiting into trash cans and toilets somewhere, he was reassured to know that they wouldn't be making any advances on Dirk any time soon. At least, he hoped not.

“Dirk, do you want to go home? I mean — are you still having fun?”

Dirk lunged forward as if he were going to throw up, and Todd warily caught him by the shoulder, but when he met Dirk’s eyes he found them saturated with incredulity instead of fogged by nausea.

“Of course I’m still having a good time, Todd!” he shouted over the music, and eerily his voice sounded normal, as if Todd’s single remark had been enough to sober him up from however many drinks he’d had. “Are _you_ having a good time?”

Todd’s mouth formed around words that were too thick and heavy to come out, so he closed his mouth into a tight-lipped smile and nodded, taking note of how painfully his heart was beating, as if the music amplified its weight and strength. Todd’s mouth turned sour and his stomach churned in regard to his lie, but the smile that lit up Dirk’s face was enough to make his guilt whimper and run away with its tail tucked between its legs — God, he was so _perfect._ Even drunk with his hair mussed up and sticking to his forehead with sweat, he was still a blinding ray of sunshine, one that the strobe lights and lasers paled in comparison to.

Dirk knotted his fists into Todd’s shirt and heaved him forward into a passionate hug, his face half-buried in Todd’s neck. “Good,” he said. He still had to speak up to be heard over the music, but he didn't have to shout when he was this close to Todd’s ear. “I’m glad.”

As much as Todd would have liked to relish this moment, his anxiety was getting to him, and his eyes danced around the room. People were staring at them, muttering amongst themselves, talking about what an odd couple they were, Todd was sure of it. They were making fun of them, mocking them, mocking _Dirk,_ and now he was seriously about to kick some ass. From the fact that Dirk had yet to pull away from Todd, he was either relishing this moment as well, or he had fallen asleep. From his slackened grip and slow, warm breaths against Todd’s neck, he figured it was the latter.

He patted Dirk’s back and felt him stir against his neck. He patted him again, more harshly this time, and Dirk groaned.

“What?”

“Dirk, I think we should leave,” Todd said, smoothing a hand over the back of Dirk’s leather jacket. The taller man groaned in protest and scooted closer to Todd, burrowing as deeply as he could manage into the crook of his neck.

“Whyyyy,” he whined, dragging a limp hand up Todd’s shoulder and clumsily caressing his neck. It was a drunken, half-assed attempt, but Todd would be damned if he said it didn't give him chills, even in the hot, stuffy space of the warehouse.

“Because you’re falling asleep on the floor,” Todd said, tucking his arms under Dirk’s. “Come on — I can’t lift you all by myself.”

Dirk continued to groan and whine, but acquiesced to Todd’s requests, which were beginning to border on demands. Todd’s small stature made it difficult for him to keep the taller detective perfectly upright, so when his eyes fell on Farah, he was more than grateful. He waved her over, and once she saw the state of Dirk, she was hasty to comply.

She rushed over and wrapped her arm around the other half of Dirk that was falling out of Todd’s grasp, and he was thankful for the lessened weight.

“What happened? Is he okay?” she asked in her usual motherly tone.

“Y-Yeah, he's fine, I think. Just…too much to drink.”

“Todd, who’re you _talking_ to?” Dirk mumbled, his head lolling around like it weighed a ton.

“Farah.”

“Farah? Oooh, when’d _Farah_ get here?” he asked, his voice repossessing the strange high-pitched tone that overcame it when he was intoxicated. He forced his head up and squinted at Farah, pulling his head back as if he were farsighted and needed to be at a further distance to fully comprehend her face. When he’d tested various distances, pulling his head back to the point that Todd was concerned it was going to rip off, then leaning in slightly, then pulling back slightly, then leaning in far, he was able to recognize the woman currently directing him toward the exit.

“Oh, _hi_ Farah!” Dirk gasped, his blinding smile bursting through his drunken stupor. “When'd _you_ get here?”

Farah raised her eyebrows, her mouth quirking at the corners as she tried to suppress a smile. She glanced around Dirk’s cumbersome figure at Todd, who was also fighting a smile and, inevitably, a fit of laughter.

Farah had made sure to remain sober — she’d figured she would wind up having to drive them home. Todd wasn't _terribly_ drunk, but he did stumble a little more than he should have under Dirk’s weight. Hell, the man didn't even weigh that much, but he was drunk and half asleep, so they were basically dragging dead weight around with them like a suffocating burden upon their shoulders. Actually, Todd reflected, that was _exactly_ what Dirk was at the moment.

“Where’s Amanda?” Todd asked, struggling to look over his shoulder at the gradually receding crowd, the dancing, writhing bodies blending together with distance to form one large, undulating mass.

“Oh, bloody _hell,_ Todd, I've not seen her ‘n _hours,”_ Dirk grumbled, furrowing his brow, unaware of the fact that Todd had not initially directed the question at him.

 _“Hours?_ What do you mean, _hours?_ You were dancing with her just a moment ago,” Todd stated sternly, as if trying to convince Dirk of what he had thought he’d seen. He knew it wasn't the wisest idea to trust the time perception of a drunken man, but a bolt of fear made his heart stutter.

Dirk hoisted his wobbly head up to give Todd a narrow-eyed stare. “Mmmmno I wasn't,” Dirk said, but the stress on his words were odd, almost making them sound like a question.

“What? What do you—”

“Hey!” Amanda said, rushing toward them. Surprisingly, she seemed fairly sober; she didn't stumble once. “Are we leaving already?” she asked, not waiting for a reply before forming another question when her eyes fell on Dirk. “Is he all right?”

Farah opened her mouth to answer, but Todd beat her to the limelight.

“Where have you been?” he asked sharply, a little more sharply than he’d intended. Amanda cringed and seemingly withdrew into her own skin, blinking heavily in surprise.

“Whoa, dude, calm down. I was outside smoking. Why?”

“Were you not dancing with Dirk?” he said, shoving his thumb over his shoulder in roughly the place from which Dirk had come running. His voice had begun to shake.

Amanda shrugged, her head jutting forward like a bird. “No? Why is that such a big deal? He’s a big boy, he can handle himself—”

But Todd had stopped listening. His full attention was now on the half-conscious man leaning limply against his arm.

“Were you dancing with someone?” he asked. Dirk didn't seem to hear him, so he had to snap him awake, then repeat the question.

“Todd, ‘ve danced with quite a few people t’night,” Dirk said slowly as if he were explaining it to a five-year-old.

“I mean before you came running at me!” Todd snapped, his patience faltering. “Were you dancing with a woman?”

“Todd, calm d—” Farah began, but Dirk’s gasp cut her off.

“Oh, I _was!_ Oh, and she was such a lovely girl. Seemed so interested in the stories I had to tell. She kept bringing me drinks, too,” he said, his eyes growing distant while he reminisced.

Todd glanced at Farah, his eyebrows sharply turned upward with crippling concern.

She seemed alarmed for a moment, too, before regaining her composure and taking her place as the mother hen.

“Todd, I’m sure it’s fine — there are some good people here!”

“No,” Todd snapped, and began dragging Dirk towards the door again, to which the involved party groaned uncomfortably at the sudden movement. “No, we’re getting out of here right now. Where did we park?”

Farah glanced in what Todd assumed was the general direction of their car and sighed. “I’m not sure. Maybe half a block from here? Most available parking spaces were taken. I didn't expect us to have to lug out a whole _person,”_ she said, casting the limp and useless Dirk a quick glare, one of which he was blissfully unaware.

Amanda was now adding to the effort of transporting Dirk, having tucked her hands under his arms and lifting him somewhat off of the ground so that his feet didn't drag so harshly. It certainly alleviated some of the burden and restrain, and Todd flashed her a quick thankful smile. She did not return it.

They were about six feet from the entrance to the warehouse now, and Todd could _still_ feel the music in his chest. He was beginning to realize what a bad idea this had been in hindsight.

They continued like that, all three of them dragging one man, who was taller than all of them, down the street. People cast them strange glances before a wave of understanding crashed over their faces like the tide on rocks, and they either looked away or smiled sympathetically.

It took them approximately five minutes to reach the car, through which they shared stories about the party and occasionally Dirk would come to just enough to attempt to form a sentence then nod back off to sleep. They would all laugh as silently as they could manage when this occurred.

By the time they’d started struggling to put Dirk in the car, he was fast asleep. So much so that Todd even heard the occasional snore.

Farah pinned Dirk to the seat while Todd buckled him in, then climbed in the back next to him. Amanda sat up front and Farah drove.

If there were a lack of traffic, it would have taken them no more than fifteen minutes to get back to the apartment, but thanks to the drunk drivers and wrecks and tenacious red lights, Todd knew it was going to take them near to an hour.

Though they’d just come back from having their eardrums exploded, Farah was playing music, albeit quietly.

Todd himself had begun to drift off when a small series of snorts and deep breathing made him glance over at his friend, who was, surprisingly, awake.

“Dirk?” Todd asked with slight concern. Dirk seemed…perplexed, looking around the car like he were afraid he’d been kidnapped. Apparently an on-again off-again fifteen minutes of sleep had sobered him up just enough to think somewhat rationally.

“Where are we?” he asked, his voice still maintaining its high-pitched drunkenness.

“In Farah’s car. You passed out at the party.”

Dirk narrowed his eyes. “Did I _really?”_ he spat, as if disgusted by himself.

Todd nodded. “Yeah,” he said tentatively. He was acting like Dirk was going to hurt him for removing him from the hostile and maddening environment of the warehouse, and he knew that was just plain ridiculous.

Dirk would never do that, would he?

“Oh, well,” Dirk began, curiously unbuckling his seatbelt. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Todd pressed himself against the door as Dirk slid closer. “What are you doing?”

Dirk pulled the collar of his jacket up as high as the stiff leather and tight stitching would allow, tucking himself against Todd’s side.

“I’m cold, is that acceptable?” he asked, the sarcasm in his voice almost poisonous.

Todd supposed that did make sense — the thin sheen of sweat that had been covering Dirk’s body had dried and left his skin sticky and susceptible to a change in temperature, which had taken place because Farah had turned on the A.C. in hopes of making Dirk more comfortable in his alcohol-induced fever.

Todd noticed Farah staring at them in the rear view mirror, her eyebrows raised with a silent suggestion. Todd sighed and wrapped his arm around Dirk, pulling him in closer. Hell, he’d been drunk and tired and cold before, the least he could do was sympathize.

“Man,” Amanda said, not even glancing back at Todd, “that’s pretty gay, Todd,” she said teasingly, and in return he “teasingly” punched the back of the passenger seat, one which Dirk was still prone to referring to as the driver’s side.

Dirk hummed and turned his face toward Todd’s neck, inhaling his scent. Todd felt a little bad about this — he didn't suppose he reeked, but it had been pretty hot at the party. However, his worries were trampled when Dirk wrapped an arm around his waist and caressed his side, sighing into Todd’s shoulder, just quiet enough that only he would hear it. It was a quick sigh, almost like a breathy moan, and that, mixed with the way that Dirk’s spindly fingers were dancing over his body, made his skin break out in goosebumps.

He gave Dirk’s shoulder a light squeeze, as if trying to make him realize what he was doing. He’d expected an, _“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”_ or a, _“Don’t worry — I’m drunk, aren't I?”_ Instead, what he received was hot breath on his neck as Dirk lightly dragged his lips over the skin and his hand wandering across Todd’s chest.

Dirk angled his body toward Todd some more, practically slinging his outside leg over top of one of Todd’s, and let his hand travel lower. Todd hissed in warning this time, trying to keep his voice low, but Dirk balled up Todd’s shirt in his fist and whimpered. He _whimpered._

Todd pulled back slightly to look at Dirk and was shocked to find his eyes screwed shut and his face twisted into an expression of pain or discomfort or…

Pleading.

Maybe it was all of the above, because when Todd’s eyes instinctively lowered, he noticed a small bulge forming in Dirk’s jeans.

Todd was sure his heart had stopped.

This man, this sharp, childish, venerable man was sitting here, drunk out of his mind feeling Todd up and getting _hard._

Uh…

Okay?

Todd couldn't remove his eyes from the crotch of Dirk’s jeans, even when the wearer gave a quiet whine and buried his face back in Todd’s neck.

“Sh’up,” Dirk said softly, his voice high and squeaky. “Shut up and touch me.”

“Uh, Farah?” Todd spoke up, his voice breaking only slightly. He quickly grabbed Dirk’s leg and pulled him closer, hoping to conceal Dirk’s shame from her. “Do you have a blanket?”

Farah furrowed her eyebrows. “Is he that cold? I can turn down the A.C.,” she said, already reaching for the dial, but Todd stopped her.

“No! I mean, yeah, he’s cold, but he also just wants one. He’s back here whining in my ear about how it isn't _comfortable_ to be uncovered.”

Farah leaned her head back and sighed. “Are you sure? Can’t he…survive without it?”

Dirk’s head shot up and both he and Todd shook their heads simultaneously and with equal insistence.

“Ugh, fine,” Amanda spoke up again. “In that black bag on the floor is a blanket. Martin insisted I take it. You guys can use it, but make sure Dirk doesn't vomit on it, okay?”

Todd nodded, mentally making a remark to Amanda that suggested that stomach acid shouldn't be the bodily fluid she should be worried about at the moment. He directed Dirk’s head back to his neck as if he were a baby, when really, he just wanted to give him some release, and if that meant encouraging him to stop fighting his twisted expression of pained desire, then that’s what he’d do.

He leaned forward and Dirk let out a small yelp followed by a shaky sigh. Todd assumed Dirk hadn't been prepared for Todd’s hip to make contact with his bulge, so he ran a comforting hand up and down the back of Dirk’s neck. He figured this wasn't very helpful in the grand scheme of things, but hell, he wanted to comfort the man.

He fought to unzip the bag with one hand, and when he had, he quickly yanked out the knitted blanket and spread it over top of Dirk. Thankfully, it was frankly huge, and covered them both, even touching the floor of the car.

Todd scooted his back up against the door and pulled Dirk on top of him; his face took residence in Todd’s shoulder again.

“Hey, Farah,” Todd asked again. “How much longer do you think we’ll have until we’re home?”

Farah blew out a breath and scratched her head. “Uh, in _this_ traffic? I’d say forty-five minutes if things don’t start picking up the pace.”

Dirk’s head flew out of it’s protective spot to look Todd in the eye, and on his face was an expression that screamed _I can’t wait that long!_

 _Shit,_ Todd mentally swore. _Shitshitshit._

“Well,” Todd began again, and he noticed a flicker of annoyance pass over Farah’s face, “would you mind turning up the music a little? I can barely hear it.”

“I thought that was the point?”

“Just turn it up. Please?”

“Yeah, and while you’re at it, can you move it up here?” Amanda asked, and Todd almost saw stars for how grateful he was. “If Todd and Dirk are gonna go to sleep — which, I mean, obviously they are — I’d rather not bother them.”

“Also, you like this song,” Farah said flatly, keeping her eyes on the immobile car ahead of her.

“Also, I like this song,” Amanda conceded, and Farah sighed, fulfilling both of their requests.

Once the music was turned up substantially and shifted entirely to the front speakers, Todd turned his mouth toward Dirk’s ear.

“Okay, we should be able to talk—”

“What the _hell_ is going on?!” Dirk hissed, sitting up on his elbows so he could look Todd in the face. He seemed genuinely frightened.

Todd, however, was at a loss.

“Wh…What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Dirk said, looking pointedly downward, and Todd felt the sudden urge to cry at Dirk’s adorable ignorance.

“You’re a drunk, horny fuck, that’s what’s going on,” Todd answered in a whisper.

Dirk narrowed his eyes briefly. “‘Ve never been… _’roused_ before,” he said hesitantly, as if Todd were going to make fun of him.

“W—Seriously?” Todd asked with a dry chuckle.

Dirk glared and nodded.

“Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Todd said, repeating his friend’s words from before. His friend who was now horny for the first time in his life and drunk for the second. His friend who was lying on top of him, completely oblivious to what to do about his situation. His friend…who was dying for release.

Shit.

“Todd, wha’ do I _do?”_ he whispered desperately. “It…hurts,” he said, furrowing his brow as if he were testing out the word, not quite sure it fit in that context. Todd figured it was as good of a word as any.

“Wh…” Todd glanced nervously at the front seat passengers, one who was rocking out to the song on the radio and the other who was leaning against the window, smiling at the former. He looked back at his bewildered friend and sighed. He really didn't feel like teaching a sex ed class at the moment.

He scrunched up his face and scratched his head. “Um…”

“Don’t be stupid, Todd, I know… _what_ t’do, just not…what t’do,” he said, nodding as if that statement had made any sense at all. After mulling over it for a while, Todd was able to get a general idea for what Dirk was saying.

“Okay, so you know the method, you’re just…embarrassed?” Todd asked, really going out on a limb with the last word.

Dirk nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact by any means necessary, even if it meant staring owlishly out the window behind Todd’s head.

“And…you _really_ can’t wait until we get home?” Todd asked, although he already knew the answer.

“Todd,” Dirk barked, yanking back the inside edge of the blanket. “D’you _see_ what kind of state ‘m in?”

Todd noticed Dirk’s erection, which had grown since the last time he’d seen it. Apparently being in such close proximity to the man he’d been groping half a second ago was not a wise decision.

Todd sighed and wiped his hands over his face, pinching his eyes shut in thought.

The weight of Dirk’s head rested on his shoulder again, and Dirk’s voice came in a very quiet whisper.

“Todd, _please.”_

“You’re drunk,” Todd hissed in response, “you may not even _want_ this.”

“I may not even _‘member_ this,” Dirk offered, and Todd had to be honest, it _was_ something to consider. _“You_ want this though, don’t you?” Dirk said presumptuously, and sometimes Todd forgot that he wasn't that terrible of a detective. He was certainly _perceptive_ when the time called for it, and especially when the time  _didn't_  call for it.

Todd’s face heated up and he had to look away, but Dirk’s wandering hand brought him back to reality. His fingers slithered up the side of Todd’s neck and cupped his head.

_“Please.”_

Okay, now he was fucking _begging._ Todd might've been strong enough to withstand Dirk Gently’s drunken slur and thickened accent, his drunken hug, hell, maybe even his weird breathy moans, but he certainly was _not_ strong enough to withstand Dirk Gently’s _begging._

 _“Please,_ Todd. I-I've no idea what ‘m doing, or how to be discreet about it, or—”

“Okay,” Todd said, massaging his temples.

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

The look on Dirk’s face was almost enough to break him in two, and the shudder that ran through his body told him that Dirk was probably getting harder by the second.

“Come here,” Todd said, slipping his fingers into Dirk’s soft, rust-colored hair and guiding his head back to the nape of his neck.

He closed his eyes and pretend to be going to sleep, making sure there was enough slack from the blanket around his arm to conceal any inevitable rapid movements. Now blind, he let his hands travel down Dirk’s stomach until he found his belt, which he had to tuck his other arm under the blanket to undo.

Dirk’s breathing was already coming short, and Todd wondered if he could get him off just by touching his stomach and chest and legs. That was a notion to be tested another time. For right now, he brought his left arm back up and looped it around Dirk, letting his other hand undo the button and zipper of Dirk’s jeans. He slipped his hand under the waistband of the pants and slid around to the back, pulling them further off of Dirk’s ass; Dirk sucked in a sharp breath.

Todd brought his hand back around to the front and let his fingers find their way through the darkness. Something in him said that if he were to move his hand just…over…there…

Dirk’s entire body jerked and he tried and failed slightly to stifle a moan. Thankfully, neither of the other passengers heard him, but Todd’s heart was still beating rapidly. He could only imagine the state of Dirk’s.

He knotted his fingers into Dirk’s hair again and turned his head slightly to whisper in his ear. “Bite my shoulder,” he ordered, and Dirk perked up slightly.

“Wha?”

 _“Bite my shoulder._ Bite it and any noise that you have to make, make it with my shoulder in your mouth. It’ll help to keep you quieter.”

“Won’t that…hurt?” Dirk wondered aloud, quirking an eyebrow.

“We've been through worse,” he reminded him bitterly, and felt Dirk’s agreement rather than heard it. The detective leaned down, hesitated, then sank his teeth into Todd’s clothed shoulder. Todd fought the shaky intake of breath that threatened to attract attention.

“Now,” Todd said slowly, tightening his grip on Dirk’s hair, “I need you to try to not…be…loud,” he directed, and once he felt Dirk try to nod in agreement, he stroked his clothed cock.

Dirk’s hand shot forward and he braced himself against the door, biting down sharply on Todd’s shoulder. In response, Todd tugged on his hair, and Dirk moaned lightly. Todd was right: his shoulder muffled his noises a great deal.

Todd could feel his own jeans getting tight, the blood rushing from his head to his cock. This really was quite the predicament.

“Are you all right?” he asked, and Dirk released his shoulder to reply.

 _“Please…”_ was all the answer he got, and it was all the answer he needed.

His fingers traced their way up to the waistband of Dirk’s underwear and he slipped that down, too, doing the same maneuver he’d done with the jeans: running his hand to the back and slipping them off of Dirk’s ass. Dirk moaned again, but Todd let his hand stay there for a moment, the heat of Dirk’s skin against his hand. He could squeeze his ass if he wanted. And he did want to. Like this…

The sting of teeth sinking into his shoulder told him he’d done a little thing right, but also told him that he was going to have one hell of an ugly bruise later. A bruise in the form of teeth marks, teeth marks that Dirk’s mouth would fit right into if someone were to ask. His intoxicated brain wanted to compare it to the story of Cinderella, Prince Charming running around with a single shoe to see whose foot fit it. Instead, if it were discovered, Todd could see Farah or Amanda parading him around with a gruesome bite mark to see whose teeth fit it. He wondered if Dirk would be the first person they tried.

Todd whispered a small, unnecessary apology into Dirk’s ear, who negated it with a grunt. Dirk wasn't asking him to stop, so Todd took it as an invitation to continue, dragging his hand down to the back of Dirk’s thigh then back up to his ass, and the detective gave two small pants, biting down on Todd’s shoulder then releasing. Biting, then releasing. Biting, then releasing.

Todd followed Dirk’s pattern by squeezing his ass, releasing it, rubbing down his thigh, rubbing toward his inner thigh, then back up to his ass. Where the hell did he get a figure like this? However, it was only the lower half of Dirk’s body that was exposed, so he was really only seeing _half_ of Dirk’s figure. Not even seeing it, he reminded himself, however it did feel like his hands had eyes. All he needed to do was touch him, and he was painting a picture in his mind of what he looked like.

He became wildly aware of the fact that he was now doing more than simply jacking off his friend (that sentence came off weird in his head — “jacking off” and “friend” shouldn't go together). It had become full blown foreplay.

Although it was more than Dirk had asked for and, possibly, more than he wanted, he didn't object, so Todd really had no way to know if what he was doing was crossing a line.

Well, he thought, he didn't have to base it _completely_ off of Dirk’s reactions. He could just ask the guy.

“Are you okay? I-I-I mean…am I okay? No, shit, I mean — are you all right with what I’m doing?” he asked. That question took way more focus than it should have, and Todd silently chastised himself for his stupidity.

Dirk remained where he was for a moment, teeth sunk into Todd’s shoulder, eyes shut, hand bracing himself against the car door. Todd wondered if he’d actually made him suffer cardiac arrest before he carefully pulled his teeth from the divots they were making in Todd’s skin and let out a shaky breath.

“Todd,” he said slowly, and oh no, this was it, he was going to tell him he’d messed up or gone too far. Todd was preparing for the impact, but the words that followed startled him so much he could nothing but stare.

“I wanna wait. And when we get back to the flat, I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll _have_ to remember this in the morning.”


	2. All I Want is Everything

It had taken them, as predicted, at least forty-five minutes to get back to the apartment. After Dirk’s comments and requests, Todd could scarcely move, and though Dirk had been able to fall into a shallow sleep (after much uncomfortable fidgeting and complaining), Todd had not been able to enjoy such a luxury. He had lain there, staring at the ceiling of the car as they inched down the street, each periodical stop heralded by Farah’s grunts of frustration and the soft  _ clunk _ of the shift knob as she dragged it into park.

Todd had been acting impulsively, of course he had. If he had been sober, or even just a  _ little _ less drunk, he would have been able to recognize the irrationality of Dirk’s requests as easily as he could recognize his own face in the mirror every morning (though, admittedly, that had gradually become more difficult ever since he met Dirk). He would have been able to see that his friend was drunk,  _ extremely _ drunk, that he couldn't think sensibly, that he was dying for some form of release and figured (as one would) that the person he was lying on top of was as good of a candidate as any to deliver him this release. He hadn't taken Todd’s feelings and hesitation into account, as per usual with Dirk, and so he had figured that Todd would go along with it, no if’s and’s or but’s about it.

Oh, how he had been wrong.

Todd’s eyelids fluttered shut over his stinging eyes without his consent, however he did not fight them. He simply laid there, his arms wrapped around Dirk’s slumbering figure on top of him, meditating over the previous events with care — the sort of care that a drunken, fuzzy-minded man is capable of.

They’d gone to a party; Dirk had wanted to go. They’d arrived; Dirk had started drinking. They’d danced; Dirk had been tipsy. Dirk stumbled over; Dirk had been drunk. Dirk had fallen asleep; Dirk had been drunk. They’d carried him out; Dirk had been drunk. They’d put him in the car; Dirk had been drunk and asleep. He’d started feeling Todd up; Dirk had been drunk. He’d become excited; Dirk had been drunk. He’d asked Todd to “help him”; Dirk had been  _ drunk. _ He’d told Todd to wait until they got back to the flat so they could fuck properly;  _ Dirk had been drunk. _

Yes, that was a constant in his thoughts. That one line, one line upon which hung his dignity, rationality, sanity, and friendship.

_ Dirk had been drunk. _

Dirk  _ was _ drunk, he thought, absentmindedly yet forcibly correcting himself. Dirk  _ is _ drunk, still drunk lying atop me, still drunk sleeping like a child in a crib.

Forty-five minutes lying in a car trying to convince yourself that your best friend’s stream of rational thought has been blocked by his intoxication had really taken a toll on Todd’s perception of the word “drunk.” It no longer sounded right in any context, no longer felt right passing over his lips. It weighed his tongue down like a stone, making his breath labored and his mouth feel cramped.

And still…

Dirk  _ had _ been drunk.

That’s all it was — drunken lust. Nothing more. No…surfacing of suppressed feelings or a clandestine cry for help. This wasn't Dirk’s attempt at coming out (though, in all honesty, did he even  _ need _ to come out?), this wasn't his attempt at telling Todd something he’d been missing for so long. This was intoxication, as plain as day. Alcohol has strange effects on the brain, isn't that what they teach in school during those programs when they make you wear the Drunk Goggles? 

And  _ still… _

_ Dirk had been  _ drunk.

When the car finally screeched to a stop, Todd almost screamed himself out of his wakeful slumber. When he was fully conscious, however, he was grateful that he hadn't. He  _ did _ have a 150 pound main lying atop him, and the repercussions of scaring the everloving shit out of him might have been drastic.

“Are you two lovebirds gonna get out or are we gonna have to drag you out?”

Todd reached up and rubbed his eyes with the sort of careless harshness that is begat from inebriation. When the last murky vestiges of sleep had been mercilessly scrubbed from his eyes, he was able to gaze upon his sister’s face clearly, her expression lined with austerity.

“Uh…yeah,” Todd mumbled vaguely, redirecting his attention to Dirk, who was still balanced precariously on the left half of Todd’s body. “No, yeah, we’re getting out.”

“You’d better,” Amanda said with a sigh, producing a slightly crushed cigarette from her back pocket and examining it with measured amounts of disinterest. “I don’t really feel like calling the Rowdy Three out here just to drag your asses out of Farah’s car.”

That seemed to get the gears in Todd’s brain cranking, because the severity and blatant truthfulness of his sister’s words suddenly became painfully obvious, and he hurried to wake Dirk. His panicked bustle stuttered for a brief moment when the sleepy, childish expression on the detective’s face scraped away a layer of Todd’s own agitation and left to glimmer a thin sliver of deeply buried compassion. Yet, there was no time to waste marveling at this overwhelmingly innocent man, so he fought to conceal the slowly spreading vein of adoration and managed to entice Dirk out onto the sidewalk, where they stood and bid their goodbyes as Farah and Amanda drove off into the distant, viscous night.

They stumbled across the sidewalk and clambered up the stairs, Todd still completely and utterly confused and Dirk still fighting to escape the fierce tides of exhaustion that lapped thickly at his mind.

When they reached the door, Todd struggled to find the correct key, then proceeded to struggle to unlock the door, until finally they were both inside, and he locked it again. As he turned back to face the dark expanse of their home, a force slammed him against the wall, startling the keys out of his hand and stretching his eyes wide. He only realized that the force had been Dirk when he recognized the heat of his body, the deep beating of his heart, and the trail of sloppy and inexperienced kisses that were being placed along his jawline.

“Dirk—” Todd stammered, reaching up and placing his hands on Dirk’s shoulders. He wasn't quite sure what his initial intention had been — perhaps it had been to push the offending party away? — but he was positive it was not to whip Dirk around and pin  _ him _ against the wall, smashing their lips together in a ferocious kiss that was mostly clashing teeth and an alarmed moan from Dirk.

Todd couldn't stop his body from moving — he was simply an observer, now. He couldn't stop himself when his hand slid up Dirk’s arm and knotted into his hair, or when his knee slipped into the small space between Dirk’s legs, or when his right arm circled around Dirk’s back and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He also couldn't stop the shudder that overtook him when Dirk subtly slid his hands under his shirt and pressed his palms flat against his chest.

He broke the kiss to gasp for air and to listen to Dirk’s shaky breathing before cupping the side of Dirk’s face with his left hand and guiding his head to the side so he could attack his neck.

He was rewarded with another breathy moan from Dirk, which sent a bolt of fiery lightning straight between his legs. Dirk passed his hands over the faint distinction of Todd’s ribs under his skin, trailing them down to his waist and hips before pulling them back up again, his touch feather-light.

“Todd,” Dirk breathed, the word barely audible, but just enough for Todd to hear it, his body jerking in another erotic shiver.

_ Oh, I dare you to say my name like that again, you sexy fuck, _ he thought, and bit down on the hickey he was already making.

He figured the small part of him that had encouraged him to sink his teeth into Dirk’s skin had had the presumption that it would “teach him a lesson”, when really all it did was elicit a throaty moan, a real moan — a  _ loud _ moan, one that would've attracted the attention of any passers-by on the sidewalk.

“Oh,” Dirk breathed, gripping Todd’s hips and slowly grinding against the knee between his leg.

_ Fuck. _

Todd pulled away from Dirk’s neck, letting out an uneven exhale and kissing up the column of Dirk’s throat, which he exposed for him beautifully by tilting his head back. Todd slid his hand down Dirk’s back to join his other arm, where he began to pull him away from the wall, much to the objection of Dirk. He could only imagine the thoughts racing through his foggy mind:  _ Right here right now, on that wall — why couldn't it be on that wall? That wall was fine, a good wall, a beautiful wall, a sturdy wall, one that would've worked just fine, why does it have to be on another wall, or not a wall at all? Why not that wall, that wall was fine… _

It required some unsteady stumbling and some pulling and pushing of Dirk, but soon he had them angled toward the hallway that led to the bedroom, and he was pushing Dirk back, his hands snapping up and cupping his face, twisting their lips against one another’s.

They were tripping over their own feet and the half-a-millimeter-wide cracks in the floorboards in their haste, but they made it, and Todd forced Dirk down on the bed, pushing him back and straddling his hips, his clothed erection pressed against Dirk’s clothed stomach.

_ Clothes. _ Oh, he had never loathed the word so strongly until now, had never despised their existence, their creation, their utility.

He broke the kiss and sat up to begin ripping Dirk’s shirt off, still wondering whether or not to even bother with the buttons, but stopped when his eyes fell on Dirk’s face.

Dirk’s beautiful, flushed, and scared face.

Oh.

Suddenly Todd felt as if he’d been punched, as if he’d been blown over and trampled on. So many aspects of Dirk’s life came rushing back to him like a ice-cold gale, smothering him with reality.

_ Taken in by Blackwing when he was a child…stayed there for years…escaped much later, stayed free for sixteen years, and in that timespan he found me… _

And it dawned on him abruptly, the enlightenment almost blinding, like watching the sunrise on fast-forward.

Blackwing gave him nary a chance to speak with any other subjects, let alone form a relationship with them. And the way he spoke of Todd, the way he reiterated time and time again that he was his first friend, the only person who’d “stuck around”…The way he’d said he’d never been aroused before…

_ Oh. _

Well, shit.

“It’s your first time,” Todd said, and the sound of his own voice startled him, shaking him to the very core; it took him a moment to realize he hadn't meant to say that out loud. 

The flush of Dirk’s face deepened to an almost wine color, a shade that nearly matched the leather jacket he had been wearing. Dirk looked away, making fists with his hands and worrying his lip between his teeth, two rows of immaculate teeth that stood out in the darkness as if they glowed.

Well, you fucked it up again, Todd. You let your mouth run before your brain could catch up and you fucked it up again — you embarrassed him.

“N-No, that’s not—! I mean, I’m not…” He sighed so heavily that it made his lungs ache, reaching up and running his hands over his face.

Why did he have to be drunk, why, oh  _ why _ did he have to be drunk? Why couldn't he be sober, be having a normal conversation, be consoling his friend (friend???) instead of embarrassing him further, instead of rubbing his virginity in his face like it was something to be ashamed of.

_ A mid-thirties virgin…Hey, that’s a good name for a song— _

_ NO, IDIOT! Focus!  _

_ Right, sorry. Okay, what do we do? _

_ There’s a wonderful man, a beautiful man lying before you blushing so hard his blood vessels might explode and you’re just sitting there, gawking at him,  _ staring _ at him! What are you going to do about it? _

_ Gawking? I’m not gawking! _

_ WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT? _

It was a shitty solution, but a solution nonetheless, he supposed. Leaning down and kissing him, softer this time, certainly put an end to the gawking.

He hesitated for a moment, his hands hovering next to Dirk’s face, before he allowed them what they wanted and carded them through his soft hair, peppering Dirk’s lips and cheeks and chin with small, sweet kisses.

“I-I didn't wanna bring it up,” Dirk mumbled, his hushed tone and drunken slur making it difficult to understand exactly what he was saying. “Didn't wanna ruin the fun, didn't wanna spoil the mood…figured I could get away wif it…seemed like a problem ‘fore now!”

The kisses had become hungrier the closer Todd ventured to Dirk’s collarbone, that small expanse of bone hidden from him by these clothes, these  _ damned _ clothes — if it weren't for the clothes, we would have never had to bring it up, Dirk!

_ If it weren't for the clothes, you would have hurt him, _ he scolded, furrowing his brow.

Dirk was still rambling above him, his words becoming more strained, his sentences strung together with a looser string, his breath becoming shallower, hitching in his throat when Todd began to unbutton his shirt.

“I-I…I d-didn't wanna…I w-wanted you to have fun…” he forced out, raking his fingers across Todd’s back, his head pushing farther back into mattress.

“Dirk,” Todd began, his own voice sounding rough and foreign to his ears, “I know you’re probably not very well-versed in any of it, but you know I could have hurt you, right?” He was three buttons down, four more to go, dragging the kisses across the newly exposed patches of skin as they came.

“I-I…”

“I could have hurt you, Dirk. Do you know how I would have felt if I had hurt you?”

Dirk didn't do anything to respond but swallow nervously.

Last button, and Todd had recently become cognizant of Dirk’s undershirt. Fuck your insecurities and sense of style, you sexy British fuck.

“The fact that it’s your first time isn't anything to be ashamed of, and I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. We were all that way once — with it being our first time and all. Even me. You don’t just come out of the womb knowing how to fuck, Dirk. I think the last thing this world needs is a bunch of sexually active toddlers.”

That elicited a small and somewhat uncomfortable laugh from Dirk, shaking Todd’s body with the force of it. That small laugh alone set free a whole world of butterflies in Todd’s stomach, and he smiled against the small U-shaped expanse of skin that had been exposed by the removal of Dirk’s shirt. He ran his hands down Dirk’s sides, relishing his shaky breathing, and slipped his fingers under the hem of the undershirt, pushing his fingers past it and splaying them across his stomach. In all honesty, he was sturdier than Todd had imagined.

“If I wasn't drunk, I would probably be making a lot more sense and being a lot more compassionate with my words,” he continued, pushing Dirk’s shirt up slowly, drinking in the slow —  _ tantalizingly _ slow — reveal of Dirk’s bare torso, a luxury he hadn't had the good fortune of experiencing until now. “But if you trust me — and I hope you trust me, Dirk — then I’ll make sure you’re comfortable — I’ll make sure you’re having a good time. The first part of that being, are you sure you want this?”

The expression that crossed Dirk’s face ranged from incredulous to downright offended, a rapid back-and-forth transition that Todd couldn't help but to smile at.

“Do I  _ want _ this?” he drawled, looking to Todd expectantly, as if not sure he’d understood the question correctly. Todd nodded.

Dirk heaved himself into a sitting position, his undershirt halfway pushed up, Todd’s hands on his ribs and his thumbs resting just below his pecs — which were  _ also _ a lot firmer than Todd could have ever fathomed. He was awaiting a reply, awaiting a witty comeback with an  _ are you stupid? _ undertone, but instead he was met with Dirk removing his hands from his body and placing them in his lap.

For a fleeting moment Todd was terrified, terrified that he’d messed something up, but in that fleeting moment Dirk pulled the undershirt up and over his head and discarded it on the floor, a deep blush gracing his pale cheeks.

Another bolt of lightning struck just south of Todd’s hips and he drowned in the mere sight of him, the mere  _ sight _ of his pale chest and faintly sculpted abs. As he gazed upon him, the first word that popped into Todd’s mind was  _ marble. _ He frowned in wonder at the thought, but soon it made sense — yes,  _ marble _ was perhaps the most apt description. Dirk was pale, everyone knew, but beneath the clothes he hid pure alabaster skin, and how Dirk’s thin frame could contain sculpted muscles such as these was still a wonder to Todd. He did look like he’d been crafted, chiseled out of a block of marble by an artist, Alexandros of Antioch or Da Vinci themselves. He was perfect in every sense of the term, perfect and all of its synonyms a hundred times over, repeated again and again until Dirk grew tired of hearing them; Todd doubted he would ever grow tired of saying them.

His torso was mostly unmarred save for the twisted knot of scar tissue on his right shoulder from where he’d been shot. Todd went there first, pushing Dirk back down onto the bed and kissing it, though he doubted Dirk could feel it.

It wasn't very “sexy”, he figured, to kiss one’s scars, but this scar held so much more meaning than a simple catastrophe during one of their cases. This scar held memories, memories of time travel, of mystery solving, of saving a girl and a dog’s life, of merry times at a restaurant with Dirk and Farah. With it, however, it also brought more unsettling memories. The very  _ distinct _ memory of Dirk being shot, of Todd being electrocuted, of them being caged up like animals, of Dirk stumbling around as he lost blood, as he  _ died. _ It reminded him of when he called Dirk a monster, when he turned his back on their friendship. In his head there were flashes, flashes of people trying to kill them, flashes of Todd having his first pararibulitis attack, flashes of Dirk being taken from him. Oh…Dirk being taken from him. No one would ever do that again.

No one would dare.

Dirk bucked his hips up, whimpering slightly, and Todd shuddered when they made contact, Dirk’s low moan setting his skin afire.

Todd trailed the kisses lower, down Dirk’s chest and stomach, kissing all around the waistband of his jeans — a part of him wished he hadn't refastened them in the car. That would make this much easier.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbled, his words muffled by Dirk’s skin, but evidently he heard him.

“I-I’m not sure…about  _ that _ —”

“Perfect,” Todd barked, glaring up at Dirk. “You’re…perfect.”

_ And all of its synonyms a hundred times over, repeated again and again until you grow tired of hearing them. _

Dirk’s eyes were wide and stunning, glowing in the dark like distant streetlights, and Todd wanted to drink up their luminescence and warmth, flit about them in silent desperation like a moth, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.

He redirected his attention to Dirk’s jeans, his fingers lingering on the button. He finished unfastening them and pulled them down slowly, just as he had done with Dirk’s shirt; in this moment,  _ slowly _ seemed to be the only speed he was capable of.

He had his hands positioned in a specific way so that he could push down Dirk’s pants with the heels of his hands and feel every inch of his newly exposed skin simultaneously. The muscles in Dirk’s thighs tensed up with every ticklish touch that trailed down them, and oh, how Todd  _ loved _ to see the effect his hands had on him. The whimper that escaped Dirk’s lips when Todd moved his fingers to Dirk’s inner thigh was enough to make him realize just how  _ constricting _ his own pants had become — they were more of a cage than anything else at this moment.

“Fuck,” he hissed, leaning back and fighting with his own buttons. He seemed to have forgotten that he was straddling someone while fighting with his own garment because when he looked up, he was startled to see Dirk lying beneath him, flustered and breathing heavily, his eyes wide as he studied Todd’s every move.

There was a desire in Dirk’s eyes, something deep and dark, something so dark that it glinted, coruscating in the dark recesses of his dilated pupils like a jewel in the bottom of a murky pond. And  _ fuck _ was it hot.

Todd swallowed back a whimper that threatened to peal through his throat like a dog’s keen. With impressive amounts of self-control, he placed his shaky hands on Dirk’s chest and smoothed them over his skin, determined to take in every inch of him through pure tactile experience.

Dirk’s hands shot forward and gripped Todd’s hips, his thumbs digging into his flesh, and at that moment Todd  _ did _ allow himself a moan, nothing too grand but enough to let Dirk know that he wasn't doing anything wrong. In fact, Dirk seemed to be doing everything  _ right, _ exceeding any expectations Todd had; he found it increasingly difficult to believe that Dirk was a virgin.

“Do you…” Todd began, his breath hitching in his throat when Dirk ground up against him with a plaintive moan. He pinched his eyes shut, controlled his breathing, swallowed, and tried again. “Do you want to help me?” he asked, and the obscure pools of darkness that had been lingering maliciously in the depths of Dirk’s eyes suddenly sprang forward shamelessly, setting his cobalt eyes ablaze with crazed, lascivious desire.

He nodded viciously, and from the strange movements of his jaw, Todd speculated that he was chewing on his tongue or cheek or the like.

Dirk reached up with fingers that were shaking so hard Todd doubted he would even be able to get a good grip on his jeans, but with a little steadying from Todd’s own rough, calloused hands, Dirk was able to unfasten them.

Todd felt quite like a scientist — it was unsettling, the way he felt like he was observing Dirk as if he were some guinea pig, some subject, but despite himself, he couldn't help but to enjoy it.

He traced the outline of Dirk’s muscles while he stared, stared at the fiery  _ want _ in Dirk’s eyes, the stupefying  _ starvation _ , the sexy  _ need. _

_ Fuck, _ this man was going to be the death of him.

Todd went to move Dirk’s hands so he could finish sliding out of his pants, but in the moment that his fingertips made contact with Dirk’s somewhat rough knuckles, the man beneath him sprung up like a Jack-in-a-box, catching Todd’s lips in a messy, hungry kiss. He combed his fingers roughly through Todd’s hair, pressing him deeper into his lips, and Todd slung his arms around Dirk’s shoulders, his legs wrapped around his hips.

This was Dirk’s first time, first time with…well,  _ everything, _ and Todd was going to make sure he introduced Dirk to as much of that  _ everything _ as he could, starting with…

He forced Dirk back down onto the bed, bunching the sheets up in his fists, and with a nip of Dirk’s lower lip, slid his tongue into his mouth.

The shaky breath that Dirk released sounded hauntingly like a sob, but when Todd was about to pull away to check, Dirk clasped the nape of Todd’s neck and shoved him down harder, making their teeth clash and practically choking Dirk on Todd’s tongue.

He couldn't help but to moan, and soon he was back on autopilot, grinding against Dirk’s leg with painful…what was the word?  _ Craving. _ Oh, yes, he  _ craved _ Dirk, craved his touch, his warmth, his taste, his smell, and it seemed he couldn't take nearly enough of these factors in, no matter how deeply he inhaled or how closely he pressed to Dirk’s body or how ferociously he fought to taste him. He doubted he’d ever  _ craved _ a person this strongly before, and no matter how far back in his memories he tore, he could come up with nothing, not a  _ single _ person who made him feel anything  _ close _ to this.

Well…

There’s a first time for everything.

Dirk, however reluctantly, was the first to pull away from the kiss, gasping for breath as if he’d been drowning, and  _ Christ, _ Todd couldn't stop looking at him, couldn't stop admiring his unfairly long lashes or his unfairly adorable blush or his unfairly enticing lips, now dark and swollen from the ferocity of their kiss.

“Todd, I… _ Oh, _ you’re bloody  _ fantastic, _ you’re perfect, honestly how could…oh,  _ Todd, _ I  _ want _ you, I want…” he babbled, his lips brushing the corner of Todd’s mouth, and with an embarrassed squeak, he began grinding against the parts of Todd’s body that he could reach, which happened to be practically every part of his body that he ached for Dirk to touch: his thighs, his ass, and his  _ maddeningly _ hard cock.

Todd dropped his head low, pressing his lips against Dirk’s chest as he panted, and the noises this man made, oh the  _ noises,  _ the damnable, prurient, inimitable  _ noises  _ — Todd knew there would never be another person who could make noises such as these, these  _ specific _ noises that drove him mad.

While Dirk rutted their hips together, Todd wondered if he could finish just by getting Dirk off, just by listening to his sounds and seeing what he could do to unwind him with just his hands; he pushed this thought away dismissively, subconsciously adding it to a list of things that he would have to try later.

“Please, God,  _ please,” _ Dirk cried, and that was too much, and Todd groaned, digging his nails into Dirk’s shoulders as if they were the only tangible thing that could keep him anchored to this Earth.

“Don’t ask God, ask me,” Todd teased, leading his open-mouth kisses to the left and stopping at Dirk’s nipple, brushing his lips against it and making the man beneath him jolt as if he’d been electrocuted.

“Todd,  _ please…” _

“Please  _ what?” _  Todd hissed, closing his mouth around Dirk’s sensitive skin and flicking his tongue over it. “For all I know, you could be begging me to stop.”

_ “Fuck,” _ Dirk hissed, and God _ dammit _ did Todd really hate his boxers right now. He’d never heard Dirk swear so freely, and it would be the greatest understatement of the century if he called it a turn on.

As much as he loved teasing Dirk (and oh, how he  _ ached _ to do it more), he let his pity and own desires get the better of him, moving his kisses lower and lower, Dirk guiding him (or really rather  _ pushing _ him) down, his fingers knotted in his hair as if he planned on tearing it out.

Todd slipped his fingers under the waistband of Dirk’s underwear, and for a fleeting second he felt a twinge of apprehension. What if he messed this up? What if he messed it up  _ royally _ and all Dirk  _ could _ remember in the morning was how terrible of a time he had? What if Dirk  _ actually _ didn't want this? What if it was all some drunken ruse, something Dirk would spend the rest of his life regretting?

But when Dirk bucked his hips up slightly and tugged on Todd’s hair, it felt as if all of these doubts had been snuffed from existence, put out and left to smoke in the aftermath of their burning pessimism like the flame of a candle, and Todd pulled Dirk’s underwear off of him without another moment’s hesitation.

In all honesty, it was dark, it was exciting, and they were both drunk and hot out of their fucking minds, but Todd swore on his  _ life _ that Dirk was  _ at least _ six inches, and (ohgodohgodohgod) all of it was his. All >six inches between his legs and seventy inches from his toes to the top of his head was  _ his, _ and he was the first person to have it all to himself.

Oh, how he’d  _ hate _ himself if he didn't take his sweet time with this.

Dirk hissed some mewling complaint under his breath and tried to force Todd’s head down, but he fought it, and it earned him another one of those damned  _ noises, _ the ones that could get him up regardless of where or when.

Todd had wanted to wait, wanted to see what cries and wishes he could draw from those gorgeous lips, but was treated only with a barely audible  _ please _ and a slight twitch of Dirk’s cock, which, in one small movement, showed all of the wanton words and noises Dirk would make if it weren't for his embarrassment, and now Todd’s only goal in life was to get the majority of those out of him.

He dragged his tongue up the underside of Dirk’s cock and he cried out, throwing his head back into the mattress and tugging Todd’s hair so hard he was positive he managed to jerk loose a few strands.

Todd figured he was going to need something to keep him in check with reality, so he gripped Dirk’s hip with one hand and brought his other hand between his legs to help him along before wrapping his mouth around the head of Dirk’s cock, bobbing up and down so slowly and yet it seemed too fast. He wanted this to last, wanted this to be his eternity (was this Heaven? Giving possibly the sexiest man alive a blowjob for the rest of forever?), wanted this to be their  _ life, _ but he also  _ had _ to see Dirk’s face when he came undone. That was vital to the continuation of his life.

As he slowly took more of Dirk into his mouth he sped up his strokes, and he could hear Dirk babbling above him, his mouth running a mile a minute, some nonsensical gibberish with a few iterations of his name, various familiar swear words (and some Todd could only guess were British slang), and the more frequent, much louder and most intelligible  _ Oh, God! _

Dirk thrust up into Todd’s mouth and it took some watering of the eyes and a lot of muscle control for Todd not to choke and cum instantaneously. Instead, he finally took all of Dirk in his mouth, the tip of him hitting the back of his throat in the most  _ pleasant _ unpleasant way.

“Todd, I —  _ fuck,  _ I-ah, I feel…” Dirk stammered, and Todd could only guess he was close, and  _ no, God, _ he wasn't going to miss  _ this. _

He slipped his fingers under Dirk’s back and pulled on him with increasing urgency until Dirk got the message and fought to sit up, Todd sliding into the floor to make it more comfortable.

“T-Todd, I  _ really _ —  _ fucking hell!  _ — I-I  _ really…” _

Todd found it cute what Dirk was trying to do, whatever that may be. If he was trying to warn him, bless his heart, but sorry, honey, I’m here for the ride, and I’m only getting off after you.

Todd stared up at Dirk as best he could, taking in his expression, taut with tension, noting the tear trails down his cheeks which he could only hope were from pleasure. He followed the lines of Dirk’s face like a map, skimming over every tense muscle, every twitch of his eye, and suddenly—oh, suddenly there was warmth in his mouth and down his throat, and all of the muscles in Dirk’s face relaxed, all slack as he threw his head back and let out the sexiest, most primal sound Todd had ever heard in his life.

He swallowed around the thick presence of Dirk’s cock in his mouth before pulling away, pressing his forehead against Dirk’s knee as he replayed that sound in his head —  _ all  _ of his sounds, every little hiccuping breath to the grand finale, the  _ one _ sound he’d been  _ dying _ to hear, the one sound he’d wanted more than anything else, and he shook with his orgasm, Dirk’s fingers massaging his abused scalp as he fought to see past the stars that were limned against his eyes like a mural, the murky vestiges of Dirk’s cry still echoing in the foggy, vacuous shell that was his mind.

He wasn't quite sure how long he knelt there, waiting for his vision to return, but it was long enough for his legs to buzz with disuse and for Dirk’s fingers to have slowed to an idle, semiconscious fiddling. With great endeavor he pushed himself to his wobbly, boneless legs and took a seat next to Dirk, pulling him into his arms and leading him back to bed.

He pulled a tissue from his nightstand and cleaned himself off some, tossing his boxers into the dark somewhere, then climbed into bed next to Dirk and tugged the sheets and comforter at odd angles until they were mostly covered.

All of this he did in a haze, a haze blessed with the everlasting image of Dirk as he shook and cried out, a haze of blinding adoration, and a haze that was saturated with a deeply buried seed of regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at three a.m. :, )))


	3. Another Solved Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second half of the crap I wrote at three a.m. :, )))))

When Dirk awoke it wasn't due to the typical nightmare he suffered on a night to night basis, but instead due to the strange numbness that plagued his limbs. It was as if he hadn't walked in days, though he was _certain_ that he’d walked yesterday — hadn't he? He must've done. How else could he have gotten around? How else could he have gotten into bed? Or did he even _leave_ the bed? No, he must've…

Despite the pleasant nothingness constricting most of his bones, there was still a pounding in his head that interrupted his thoughts and reminded him of a previous mistake, a _recent_ mistake. What had that mistake been?

He turned as if to roll over, wondering if a different position would alleviate some of the strain that was pulsating behind his eyes, but as the covers shifted to accommodate his moving form, he noticed something — in fact, he noticed _multiple_ somethings, the first being: he was _unnaturally_ aware of how the sheets felt on certain parts of his body he wasn't used to feeling the sheets on, specifically the parts of his body he generally kept covered at all times. Second, despite the clothes he was slowly realizing he lacked, he felt…warm. Happy. Content. Finally, and possibly most importantly, he noticed a weight across his waist, a long, heavy weight, and the first conclusion that his notoriously irrational brain jumped to was that it was a huge snake that had come to kill him in the night and was in the process of doing so, constricting and tightening around his bones and savoring every second of it.

He rolled over quickly, his head screeching in protest and making his temples throb, and the scream that erupted from his throat upon seeing another face behind him certainly didn't help it.

Two steel blue eyes burst into life, pupils contracting from the sudden awakening, and Dirk fought to free himself, wrestling with his silky, sleek captor and stumbling to the floor, scrambling away from the bed, which proved to be more of a chore than he’d expected because his foot had become tangled in the sheets.

The person that had been behind him sat bolt upright, their hair mussed up and their eyes narrowed against the sunlight that filtered through the windows.

“What the _hell?”_

That voice… _that_ voice. Oh, Dirk knew that voice, knew it all too well, and he could hardly believe that he was hearing it.

 _“Todd?!”_ he cried, his voice high and strained with incredulity or perhaps disuse.

_Disuse????_

No, he thought, shaking his head slightly. No, that’s not right at all. His voice would be strained with _over_ use. But why?

The more he dug through his strange, obscure memories, the more he was able to fish out comprehensible and familiar scenes, and suddenly he’d pieced together his own rebus, one that told more of a story than he’d expected, and he was able to recall what had happened (well, _some_ of it.)

Party. Drinking. Dancing. Music. Todd (Todd????), must go to Todd (why Todd????). Dirk had an agitating assumption that his recollection was wasted on the least helpful bits of last night, especially since he remembered almost nothing that would provide him with any answers as to why he was cold and naked on the floor of Todd’s room after having just fled the bed. Also, what was wrong with his _body?_ Why did he feel so… _wrong?_

“Dirk?!”

Thankfully, Todd seemed to be equally as alarmed as Dirk was. Frankly, that’s not very helpful to the situation, Dirk conceded, but at least he didn't have to feel like he was forgetting something very important _alone_ now! Now he had Todd to forget something very important with him. Speaking of which…

“Why am I naked? Why am I in your bedroom? Why do I feel like I've been doing _lots_ of drugs, though I have no past experience to compare that feeling to?” he rambled, his questions slurring together to form one big question that something inside of him said Todd didn't have the answers to. “Also why am I speaking like Gordon Rimmer?!” he cried out, gripping his hair and rocking back and forth, a sudden feeling of urgency settling over him like a suffocating blanket of ice-cold snow.

“Wait, you’re _naked?”_ Todd asked, the terror in his voice seeping through, his eyebrows raised so high Dirk wondered if it hurt. “Am I…?” Todd mumbled, lifting up the sheets to glance down at his lower half. From his scream and the way he leaped out of the bed, clutching the sheets to his body, Dirk figured he knew the answer to that question.

His own humility hit him like a bullet and he scrambled forward, snatching one of the pillows off of the bed and using it to conceal his shame, the sudden understanding that he was _naked_ in a room with _another person_ dawning on him all too abruptly, making his ears and cheeks scarlet with embarrassment.

For a moment all they could do was stare and admire what parts of each other they could see. For Dirk, he could see Todd’s shoulders under his tank top — broad and stronger than he’d expected — and some of his legs; he found it important to note the strange sinuous scar that swirled up Todd’s right thigh, and figured he would ask about it later.

For Todd, he could see…well, _everything._ He could see Dirk’s arms and chest and legs, all more muscular than he would have ever dreamed. He could see the scars from however many times Dirk had been shot, one on the side of his right arm, one in his right shoulder, and one on his right thigh. Todd knew that if Dirk were to turn around (apart from giving a _more_ than desirable view of his ass), he would see another scar, one just to the left of Dirk’s shoulder blade where the second crossbow bolt had struck him. A small pool of dread bubbled up inside of Todd’s stomach as he wondered just how many others scars Dirk had that he couldn't see from this distance or, perhaps, that weren't even on the half of his body that he was currently presented with.

Staring at each other, admiring each other with a prickling pit of passion kindling in the deepest part of their stomachs, they couldn't think of anything to say or do besides _stare_ and blush madly like giddy school girls.

Todd knew there _must_ be a reason as to why they were naked and in bed together, and he had a sneaking suspicion on what it was, one that made him dizzy to think about. On the contrary, the possibility of them winding up in the same bed whilst being equally nude was as shocking of a development to Dirk as was a soul-swapping time machine.

Todd was the first to come back to reality, blinking erratically and clearing his throat, wondering whether he should avert his eyes or not and settling on the latter, letting his gaze rove over the younger detective with a level of desire he hadn't felt in quite some time.

“Your, uh,” he began, scratching the back of his neck viciously, tearing at some imaginary bug. He shuffled his aching feet against the cold floor and pulled the sheets closer to his body, despite some part of him berating him with the claim that it was _unfair._ “Your scars healed nicely. No, I mean — well, your scars _are_ healed, that’s the point, that’s what makes them scars, but that’s not what I…I meant your wounds, where you’d been shot…It’s…nice.” Dirk narrowed his eyes and Todd felt an overwhelming desire to fling himself out the window. “Not _nice,_ because, I mean…psh, scars aren't nice — unless you think they are! Then they’re cool, they’re fine. I actually think they’re pretty badass, especially yours since you were, you know…shot…” He trailed off with the last word, lowering his eyes and furrowing his brow, his lips pursed with the strain of unspoken words. There seemed to be so much he wanted to say, and yet he couldn't get his throat to cooperate — he couldn't get _anything_ to cooperate. Especially his lower half, which had begun to softly ache with a need to be closer to Dirk. Somehow, the ache felt familiar, as if he’d experienced it…recently.

“The same goes for you,” Dirk said softly, and Todd perked up, quirking an eyebrow. Dirk nodded towards Todd’s lower-body and he was overcome with agonizing embarrassment, but when he followed Dirk’s gaze, he noticed that he was talking about the scar on his leg.

“My...? Oh, that?” he asked dubiously, pulling the sheet aside to reveal it some more. Dirk nodded earnestly, letting his cold, mesmerizing eyes settle on the zig-zag of pale, elevated skin. Todd ran his fingers over it and grunted, remembering when he’d been drunk and trying to sneak through a barbed wire fence…

Dirk must have said something because when Todd returned from his labyrinth of reminiscence, the air buzzed with words that were hanging just above his head, unheard.

“S-Sorry…What did you say?” he asked, hoping Dirk would repeat himself. From the look on his face he worried that he wouldn't, but he did. And oh, thank God he did.

“Can…Can I…touch it?”

With an internalized shudder the ache between Todd’s legs intensified, and he was so drunk on the thought of Dirk’s skin against his that he nodded without giving it a second thought.

Dirk padded over slowly, eyeing Todd with trepidation as he knelt down, and Todd realized how close his lips were to his cock, so close, _too_ close, and yet too far, and he wanted to grab his head and fuck his pretty little mouth until someone started wondering where they were, and only then would he stop, but not without protesting, not without—

When Dirk’s hand pressed against Todd’s thigh it felt like an electric shock. For a short time he thought it might have been, and he would have been content with that conclusion, but he couldn't rightfully back it up knowing that Dirk hadn't flinched away from the contact like Todd had wanted to. Instead, he leaned into the touch, letting out a shaky breath that made Dirk glance up at him, something dark and eerily promiscuous glinting in his eyes.

“What did you do?” Dirk asked softly, and Todd felt his breath against his leg more than he actually _heard_ the question, but he had a general understand of what Dirk might have asked.

“‘S stupid barbed wire fence,” he said with hopeful finality — he didn't quite feel like explaining his previous mishaps with alcohol and recreational drugs to Dirk after just waking up in bed with him. It just…seemed inadvisable.

Again, they were plunged into silence, Todd staring down the pale slope of Dirk’s back to the gorgeous curve of his ass, and Dirk eyeing Todd’s scar with a growing need to touch it. No, something more, he realized. He needed to _kiss_ it.

He reached forward, hand trembling slightly in apprehension. “Todd, can I…” he began, but chastised himself for how silly the question was. _Can I kiss your scar?_ How pathetic was he? He’d been able to brush off the steady throb between his legs until now, but why _now?_ Was it because he’d gotten so much closer? Was it because if Dirk were to shift slightly to the right and lean forward he could…

“What, Dirk?” Todd asked, startling Dirk from his fantasies.

 _Perhaps they don’t have to_ be _fantasies if you can toughen up and_ ask _the man, you pathetic sod._

 _Ask him? Ask him_ what _exactly?_

_Exactly what you want to, you big stupid—_

“Can I kiss it?” Dirk blurted, and he regretted the words before they’d even been formed in his throat. Todd sucked in a shaky breath and blew it out, running a hand through his hair and staring out the window.

“That’s… _Shit_ , Dirk, yeah,” he mumbled, turning back after a brief pause. “Yeah, you can…you can kiss it.”

Something fluttered in Dirk’s chest and he stroked the inside of Todd’s thigh, causing him to stumble back slightly from the way it made him weak in the knees. Dirk leaned forward, following the twist and curve of the scar with his lips, and Todd had to back himself against the wall so he wouldn't fall over.

Something inside of Dirk seemed to snap into place when he began placing small kisses along Todd’s thigh, and his heart nearly stopped when he came to a conclusion.

Crouching like this, with his lips against Todd’s scar, a scar that no doubt held a lot of memory, he seemed to recall something. Crouching like this, with his face so close to the hard-on that Todd was trying and failing to hide, he seemed to understand why they were in bed together.

“Todd,” he mumbled, forcing himself to his feet, completely discarding the pillow on the floor, “I think I figured out why we were lying together _ever_ so alarmingly nude,” he announced, dragging his lips up Todd’s leg and hip and side and shoulder until he was buried in the crook of his neck with Todd’s arms around his back, the sheet that he had been using to cover up now forgotten on the floor along with Dirk’s pillow.

“Yeah,” Todd groaned, closing his fist around chunks of Dirk’s hair and making the dull throb in his cock stronger, “yeah, I think I do, too.”

“Does this count as another case that we've just solved?” Dirk whispered, brushing his lips against the tendons in Todd’s neck.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he growled in reply, his hands snaking down Dirk’s back. “I only have one thing on my mind, Dirk…I don’t seem to remember very much from last night, so, if you’re…interested—”

“Yes,” Dirk interrupted, pulling back so he could look Todd in the eye. “A thousand times, _yes.”_


End file.
